


So Are You

by khaleesi_of_all



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Barebacking, Delayed Orgasm, Dom!Sherlock, Dom/sub, Fingerfucking, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Rimming, Spanking, Sub!Jim, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaleesi_of_all/pseuds/khaleesi_of_all
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Moriarty is pissed off again because of a certain know-it-all. Jim goes out to fuck away his problems and finds an unlikely solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Are You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at Sheriarty fanfiction. I hope you enjoy it!

“Fuck him!” Jim stormed down the hallway, Sebastian running to catch up with him.

“What did he do now?” Sebastian panted. For a short guy, Jim could walk really fast.

“That fucker just ripped apart my thesis in the middle of my presentation! Six months I’ve been working on that research and that bastard started giggling during the rough draft of my exposition. I stopped to ask him what he thought was so goddamn funny and he said that my introductory argument against criminal pathology's allowance of a lack of concrete evidence in conviction completely negates the last third of my rhetoric on the topic of unsubstantiated and necessary arrests. I hadn't even fucking finished reading the second page!" Jim seethed, face flushing in his anger. "Six months of research and writing worthless because of that asshole's smart mouth."

Students parted around them, wary of Jim Moriarty and his best mate Sebastian Moran. Jim increased his pace before abruptly turning right towards the student gym. "What do you say about some sparring, Seb?" 

Sebastian sighed, knowing that Jim would only calm down once he'd thoroughly had the shit beaten out of him. Sebastian began to roll up his sleeves. 

*

45 minutes, a bruised rib, a sore ankle, and a black eye later, Jim was feeling much better. An ache in his body always made him feel better. A kind of catharsis, really, taking his emotions and applying them to himself physically. And Sebastian was always itching to hit something. Better Jim, who enjoyed it, than some poor guy who ate his Goldfish. The man turned into a wild animal. Jim once had to pull him off of a freshman who hadn't seen the label on the snack bag. The poor kid couldn't talk for a month his jaw was so swollen. Not that Jim can't give as good as he gets. Seb walked out of the student gym favouring his right shoulder after Jim had pinned him facedown against the mat, shoulder hiked up an unnatural angle as Jim straddled his thighs, preventing any chance of regaining leverage. 

They walked side by side back to their shared dorm on the other side of campus, three hours to spare before dinner was served at the canteen. Friday night meant the majority of the student body would be off campus, drinking and fucking at various bars and clubs. 

Jim bumped his shoulder into Sebastian's, Sebastian wincing. Jim smirked. "Tender, are we?"

Sebastian groaned. "Fuck off. You know I twisted it last week helping Annie move rooms." Annie was Sebastian's girl of the month, having lasted much longer than Tamara, the redhead Jim had actually liked, and Jenny, the quiet dark girl who was ridiculously loud when they were fucking. Annie was tall and blonde like Seb, and they were quite the matched pair. 

"It just might last this time," Jim drawled exaggeratedly. "Don't break her heart. This one could actually kill you."

Seb laughed. "She'd come the closest." Raised by a military father, Sebastian was an expert at hand to hand combat as much as he was an accomplished marksman. Jim didn't ever want to get on his bad side. Ironic that Seb was studying botany, of all things. 

"Is she coming over tonight?" Jim asked as they crossed the quad, approaching their dorm. 

Seb grinned. "Yeah. You'll need to break out the earplugs."

Jim shook his head. "I need more than just a couple of punches today. I need to be pounded into someone's mattress. I'm going out tonight."

Seb shook his head, fumbling in his pocket for his keys to unlock the door they were now standing outside. "Just don't go to Jerry's again, yeah? You got the shit kicked out of you by those hyper-masculine douchebags last time you went there. Pick a nice place this time? One with bouncers?" The door squeaked open and cool air rushed into the mild afternoon heat. 

Jim shoved past Sebastian. "Yeah, yeah. It's not about the place, it's about the boys." Jim could feel Seb rolling his eyes behind him. 

"Just be careful, asshole."

Jim jogged up the stairs, ignoring the protests of his ankle and unlocked their dorm room before locking himself in their en suite bathroom to shower. Time to come up with a game plan. 

*

Four hours later with Sebastian and Annie inhabiting the dorm room, Jim was calling a taxi and making sure he looked alluring. Hair messy, with a touch of gel to keep it from falling completely in his eyes, black v-neck clinging to his chest and stomach, jeans fitted but not tight, framing his ass wonderfully, boots black and laced all the way up. One earring in his right ear, and a leather cuff around his left wrist completed the ensemble. Wallet in his back left pocket, phone in his front right, and he was ready to find a hot guy to make him forget about the utter bastard that was Sherlock Holmes. 

He was sitting in the cab after telling the driver the address when his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket to see a text from Irene on screen. 

Heard Sherlock busted your ass in Criminology today. 

Jim could feel her laughter through her words. 

That prick can shove it. He just happened to notice a mistake. 

Ooh the great Jim Moriarty made a mistake. What's next? Will the Queen kiss the Pope?

Fuck off. Go bother Molly. 

She's studying. She has a massive exam on female anatomy later. 

Yours, I presume?

You presume correctly. And you? Are you going cruising for a bruising tonight? Though I heard Sebby already roughed you up a bit. 

Who's your little birdie? They seem to tell you a lot. 

I will never tell you. 

It's Philip isn't it. 

Shit. 

He has an insane crush on you. He's also in class with Sherlock and I. It wasn't that difficult to guess. 

Well unless he magically grows tits and a pussy he's stuck with unrequited love. 

Good thing too. He'd make a hideous woman. 

You never answered me. You're not going to Jerry's, are you?

I'll be careful you old hussy. 

Be sure that you do. I couldn't live without my evil genius. 

Enjoy your domestic evening. 

I bloody love dating a med student. She knows exactly where everything is. 

See you at breakfast I.

You're buying xx

The taxi stopped outside of the Townhouse, a noted gay club. Jim paid the cabbie after flashing his student ID to receive a 15% discount and made his way inside. 

A ten dollar spot fee and a flash of his ID and Jim was immersed in a darkened and silent hallway with a door marked employees only and a coat check. He made his way to the curtain-covered doorway at the end of the hall which was being guarded by an intimidating black man with teardrop tattoos on his temples. "Archie," Jim nodded. 

The large man grinned. "James! Long time no see." He stamped the back of Jim's hand with a fluorescent insignia of the club's visual, a man standing with his legs shoulder width apart, arms wrapped around his torso with the words "go to town" written underneath. 

"Thanks, Archie," Jim said, and slipped through the gap in the curtains. 

Immediately he was bombarded with bright lights strobing through the dim light of the club. Loud music pumped from the massive speakers in every corner. A bar made up the west wall with tables and booths all along the south and north sides, and a DJ was set up on the east wall, a guy named D.I. who usually played Friday nights. 

Jim inhaled, taking in the scene of men of all shape, size, and color dancing and grinding together, drinking and talking, flirting and making out. He breathed out and strode over to the bar, catching the eye of a short blonde man with a neck tattoo as he crossed the room. He winked and filed him away as a potential partner for the evening. The song changed into something gritty and deep with a baseline that thudded in Jim's chest. He ordered a gin and tonic, which he would nurse the whole night if he had to. He wanted to be sober tonight, to feel every moment. 

A hand slid around his waist and a warm body pressed against him, mouth to his right ear. "You look good enough to eat."

It was Neck Tattoo, smiling sharkishly at Jim, hand drifting to rest on his belt buckle. "Mind if I have a taste?" 

Jim shuddered at the blatant dominance. "Buy me a drink first and we'll see." 

Neck Tattoo grinned wider, and moved around to face Jim. "What's your name?"

Jim took his gin and tonic from the bartender and Neck Tattoo handed him a ten dollar bill. "Name's Jim," he said, leaning forward to be heard over the soul-bending music. Jim was lucky he could see out of the corner of his eye enough to see that Neck Tattoo was dropping something in his drink. Jim lifted his drink to his lips, well aware of Neck Tattoo tracking his movement, when he sniffed it instead. "Rohypnol? Really? Clumsy." With that, taking a moment to enjoy the look of shock on Neck Tattoo's face, Jim threw his drink in Neck Tattoo's face, amused with the reaction he was given. 

"You bastard!" Neck Tattoo roared, reaching for Jim. Luckily security was already on it's way over and two large men dragged Neck Tattoo out. The music continued, segueing into a slower more sensual song and couples began to grind together on the floor. 

"It was ketamine, actually." Jim froze, brain connecting the disembodied voice to a specific bastard that Jim knew all too well. 

He whirled around to see Sherlock Holmes standing in from of him, hands tucked into the pockets of his almost too tight jeans, black button down unbuttoned to reveal a skintight mesh tank, sleeves rolled to the elbows. "What?" Jim spat, mind reeling at both Sherlock's sudden materialisation and the fact that the only thought he was capable of understanding was he's hot as fuck. 

"Ketamine. Obvious, really. Simply by noticing the pattern of the dragon on his neck, accompanied with the creases of his shirt at his elbows, one can deduce that Aaron used to run drugs for the تنين gang, enjoyed recreational use of opium, and would desire to use ketamine as an inhibitor because it is both cheaper and brings the recipient some mode of pleasure when they are under it's influence."

Jim stared. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh do contain yourself."

Jim started, temporarily caught off-guard. "How the hell did you know all that?

Sherlock smirked. "I didn't know, I saw."

"And where did you see all that?" 

Sherlock sighed, "You normal people are all so blind. You can never see what's right in front of you." He tilted his head and licked his lips before continuing. "However I can see everything. I can see your motive for coming here tonight in your hair gel and the gin staining your fingers." His eyes traced down Jim's body. "I can see your dirty little secret in your earring and the way you lace up your boots and the way you're holding your left side slightly steadier than your right." Sherlock met Jim's eyes again, cerulean locked onto brown. He reached for Jim's wrist and all Jim could do was swallow, a shiver arcing up his spine when Sherlock's fingertips brushed the sensitive skin under the leather cuff. "And I can see how much you want me from your eyes and your wrist."

Jim yanked his hand away, inhaling heavily, which was a mistake because now he could smell Sherlock's heavenly scent. Like vanilla and laboratories, with something heavier and muskier underneath. "What makes you think you can just take whatever you want? I happen to hate your pretentious ass."

Sherlock smirked, a habit Jim was beginning to look forward to. "That was rather the point."

Jim blanched. "So you purposely humiliated me during my thesis presentation, and basically harassed me for six months because you wanted me to hate you? You're crazy!"

Sherlock sighed again and moved closer to Jim. Now barely four inches separated them. Jim's chest heaved as he fought to keep his breathing steady, heart beginning to race. He looked up at Sherlock, surprised to see a genuine smile gracing his face this time. Sherlock bent down to put his mouth next to Jim's ear, hand snaking around his waist to rest on the small of Jim's back. Jim couldn't help raising into his toes as he felt Sherlock's breath on his ear, feeling a large, cool hand slipping beneath his shirt to touch his skin. Sherlock exhaled and whispered, "So are you."

Jim's only thought was fuck it. 

He grabbed Sherlock's face and pressed their lips together. Sherlock moaned and licked into Jim's mouth, biting Jim's bottom lip as he forced Jim to open under him. Jim let out a sound he would deny ever releasing when their tongues met. Sherlock inhaled sharply and grabbed Jim's wrists and pushed him away. 

"What the fuck?" Jim said, eyes locked onto Sherlock's, tongue wetting his lips, getting every taste of Sherlock that he could. 

"Not here," Sherlock growled. Jim felt it in his cock. He tugged his wrists away and pulled at Sherlock's button down, a palm smoothing down his mesh covered chest. Sherlock shuddered, looking down. When he looked up his eyes were dark, irises almost completely swallowed by his pupils. He grabbed both of Jim's wrists in one hand and tightened his hold before pushing him back against the southern wall, thigh pushing in between Jim's, forcing Jim to spread his legs. Oh yeah, his cock was definitely interested now. Sherlock pulled Jim's wrists above his head, his other hand holding Jim at the base of his throat. Sherlock pressed his face into Jim's throat before kissing it, laving his tongue over his pulse point and sucking to leave a harsh dark mark. Jim shuddered. Sherlock pushed his hand more sharply into Jim's throat and growled, "If we do this, I will fuck you up, pretty boy." Jim whined and nodded. "Yes- oh god yes -Sherlock-" Sherlock attacked his mouth again, teeth biting roughly at Jim's bottom lip which was promptly becoming swollen. 

Sherlock released him and stepped back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Jim remained against the wall, hands now down by his sides, palms sweating and pressed into the wall. Sherlock held out a hand. "Coming?" 

Jim gulped and took his hand. 

*

The atmosphere in the cab was electric. Their intermittent breaths were their only communication as the car sped along Man Street on the way to Sherlock's off-campus apartment. Sherlock had immediately sequestered himself to one side of the cab, right hand clenching and unclenching as the car drove closer and closer to it's destination. Jim was left alone, flushed and untouched for the duration of their journey. He stared at Sherlock's profile, eyes lingering on his strong jawline, the bow of his top lip, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. 

Impossibly, he seemed to be getting harder as the cab drove. Usually it took quite the effort to get him interested, but all Sherlock had to do was look at him to have him raring and ready to go. 

Jim's mind was going wild with imagination. Would Sherlock tie his wrists to the headboard and spank him? Spread his legs and suck him until he came? Fuck him fast and hard, slow and sweet, face down, face up, sideways, Jim on top, all fours, bent over, in the shower, on the wall, the couch, the bed, the floor-

Jim moaned. 

Sherlock's head whipped around and saw Jim with his head tilted back, a hand palming himself through his jeans, mouth open and wanting. Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "No," he hissed. "You don't get to touch yourself."

Jim moaned again. 

Sherlock's eyes flashed and Jim reluctantly moved his hand away. Sherlock smirked and looked out the window again. 

The cab stopped outside a townhouse and Sherlock hurriedly paid the cab driver as Jim awkwardly exited the car. The cab drove off and Sherlock took Jim's hand, his thumb brushing over the back of it.

Jim was surprised by the tenderness of his touch. "Your roommate-"

"Is out with his girlfriend and will not be returning until late tomorrow afternoon."

They walked up the path to the door and Sherlock unlocked it deftly, with a flick of his wrist. He pulled Jim in after him, maintaining his hold on Jim's hand. The door had barely closed when Jim was slammed up against it, back coming into contact with the oak with a solid thud. 

Sherlock dove for his neck again, licking the spot he had left earlier. Jim took this opportunity to run his fingers through Sherlock's mass of black curls. Sherlock came up for air and pressed their foreheads together. "You know what this is, right?"

Jim moved his hands down to hold onto Sherlock's shoulders. "Yes."

Sherlock shifted his weight. "You've never done this before." 

Jim twitched. "I am not a virgin!"

Sherlock chuckled. "I never said you were. I said you have never done this before."

Jim blushed. "I had a boyfriend who liked to fuck my mouth, but yeah. I've never done anything like this before."

"You're scared." Sherlock observed. 

"I am not!" Jim was adamant.  
"You don't have to be," Sherlock murmured. "But you have to trust me." He nosed along Jim's cheekbone and pressed a kiss under his jaw. Voice inexplicably deeper, "I can give you what you need, but you have to let me."

Jim shuddered, panting, hands squeezing Sherlock's shoulders tighter. "Moran." 

Sherlock looked startled. "What the-"

"I need a safe word, right? That's what this is, isn't it? I need a safe word, and I would never say that name in bed."

Sherlock's pupils dilated and he kissed Jim ferociously, grinding against him slightly. Jim thrust his hips at Sherlock, trying to urge him on. 

Sherlock broke the kiss and started walking backwards, steering Jim along with him. Jim opened his eyes so he wouldn't trip and saw that Sherlock's eyes were fixed on his. They passed a kitchen, a living room with a frankly enormous television, a locked door with a sign that said "Stay out Sherlock, I mean it", a bathroom, and finally Sherlock opened the door at the end of the hall. The walked into the centre of the room, standing at the foot of the large, lush bed. Sherlock released Jim, closed the door and then Jim moved toward him. 

"Stop." Jim froze. 

"Here's how this works," Sherlock's posture shifted from horny college student to imposing master. "I tell you what to do, you do it. You feel in any way uncomfortable, you say the word and we stop. You don't want to do something, you say the word and we stop. I need you to trust me that I know how much you can take. Understood?"

Jim nodded. 

"Understood?" Sherlock's voice was forceful. 

"Understood," Jim croaked. "What-"

"Hush," Sherlock said. "You no longer need to speak. I have other plans for that mouth."

Jim whimpered. 

"Strip and kneel."

Jim immediately began removing his clothing, boots and socks first, then t shirt and jeans, then he faltered as his thumbs hooked in his underwear. 

"Go on," Sherlock said. 

Jim inhaled and shoved his pants down and stepped out of them, before stepping forwards towards Sherlock and kneeling, hands clasped behind his back. 

"Good." Sherlock ran a hand through Jim's hair and it took all of Jim's self control not to push up into it. "I bet you've watched scenarios like this. Worked yourself up, alone in your bedroom, desperate for the real thing but unable to find someone you could trust to hurt you like you wanted. That's how you knew to clasp your hands, right?"

"Yes," Jim gasped. 

Pain exploded across the side of his face and Jim tipped over, throwing out his palms to catch himself. 

Sherlock wrung out his hand. "I believe I said 'hush'," he said. "Kneel."

Jim hurried to get back into position and noticed that the pain had not in any way taken away from his arousal. In fact, he seemed harder than he was before. 

Sherlock promptly ignored Jim as he stepped around him and opened his closet door, disappearing inside. 

Jim frowned, and shifted his weight, uncomfortable kneeling on the hard wood floor. 

Sherlock emerged with a large black box and no shirt. His bare chest whitewashed by the moonlight that seeped in between the blinds. He placed the box on the foot of the bed and then stood in front of Jim. 

"Look at me."

Jim turned his face up, seeing Sherlock looking down at him with hunger in his eyes. 

"Stand."

Jim rose to a standing position, flinching when Sherlock trailed one finger from his hairline down his nose, over his lips, down his chin and neck, then trailing his whole hand down his chest before stopping just above Jim's straining erection. 

"There are so many things I want to do to you," Sherlock murmured, voice deep. 

A whine escaped Jim, cock twitching at the sound of Sherlock's sex voice. 

"Lie down on the bed. Face up."

Jim turned and walked toward the bed, hands still clasped behind his back, aware of Sherlock's eyes on him. He knelt onto it before swivelling and laying down, head on the pillows, hands at his sides. He started breathing faster as Sherlock approached him. 

Sherlock opened the box and withdrew a pair of padded leather handcuffs, displaying them to Jim, waiting for a nod of approval before he took each of Jim's wrists, kissed them, and then cuffed them to the headboard. Jim arched up towards Sherlock, desperate for some kind of touch. 

Sherlock slapped him. "Do not move."

Jim whimpered. 

"Can't be quiet?" Sherlock reached into the box and took out a pink ball gag, looping the strap behind Jim's head, placing it in his mouth, and clipping it shut. 

Jim's eyes rolled back in his head. It tasted like plastic and held down his tongue so he couldn't make a sound. 

"Snap your fingers if you want me to stop," Sherlock said, having removed Jim's voice. 

Sherlock trailed his fingers across Jim's black eye, and then across the cheekbone he had punched and slapped earlier. 

"You're so beautiful when you're quiet," he whispered. "You should always have something in your mouth."

Jim tried to whine, but couldn't, chest heaving, cock straining upwards, drops of precome spurting out. 

"You're doing so well. Time to give you what you want."

Sherlock slide down Jim's body and before Jim could process his movement, his cock was engulfed in wet heat. 

Jim threw his head back, a choked noise escaping his lips. Sherlock sank down to the base of Jim's cock before hollowing his cheeks and sucking. 

Jim thrashed his head left and right, desperately trying to keep his body still. He'd been hard since the club, and the intense warmth around his cock was going to drive him over the edge much sooner than he'd hoped. His toes curled as Sherlock drew off of him only to tease at his slit with his tongue. Jim whined, he was getting close. 

"Shh," Sherlock soothed, sinking back down onto Jim's leaking cock, fingertips brushing his perineum. 

Jim felt his entire body tensing as he approached orgasm, and at the last possible moment Sherlock's fingers formed a ring around the base of his cock, stopping the pleasure in its tracks. 

Jim whined and shoved his face into the pillows as his orgasm was cruelly denied. In a moment, Sherlock was suspended above him, lips next to his ear again. 

"We're just getting started. I'm going to hurt you now." 

Jim cried out brokenly, cock leaking precome onto his belly. 

Sherlock withdrew, and pulled a leather riding crop out of the black box. He trailed it down Jim's throat and chest as he rose into his knees on the left hand side of Jim's body. He tapped Jim's cock lightly with the rough leather end and Jim howled through the gag. 

Sherlock smacked his cock sharply with the crop, causing Jim's erection to wilt slightly, but Jim's body felt hot and relaxed, eager to experience the sharp, biting hits of the crop on other parts of his body. 

"Roll over," Sherlock whispered. 

Jim planted his feet and heaved his body over until he was lying on his stomach, wrists still cuffed to the headboard, arms crossed uncomfortably, keeping his chest and head raised up off of the bed slightly. 

Sherlock smacked Jim's ass with an open hand, causing Jim to gasp. Sherlock rubbed the skin softly, murmuring approval at the red flush of skin. 

"Ready?" Sherlock asked. 

Jim nodded, biting down on the gag. 

Sherlock reared back, bring the crop down hard on Jim's left thigh, right at the crease of his ass. Jim jerked away. 

"Oh no. You don't get to run away from me," Sherlock said. Jim moaned as Sherlock mirrored his hit onto his right thigh. 

Jim's body tensed, trying to sense the next hit. Sherlock snapped the crop onto Jim's shoulder blade, stinging the sensitive skin. Jim let out a sharp, high-pitched squeak. Sherlock hit Jim's left ass cheek, his right thigh, his left knee crease, the small of his back. 

"Relax. Just let go and feel."

Jim melted into the mattress, exhausted from trying to anticipate the next hit. He sighed out a moan as Sherlock whipped his ass. 

"Such a good boy."

Jim's hips made small movements into the sheets, erection back to full hardness now. Sherlock brought the crop down again and again, marking his thighs, ass, and back. 

WHAP, WHAP, WHAP. It no longer hurt. The pain had stopped being pain and had turned into pure sensation, taking Jim higher and higher. 

Over and over Sherlock hit Jim with his full weight behind his strikes, leaving small red welts all over his body. Jim lay on the bed, tension completely gone from his body, high off of the pleasure-pain. Jim groaned. He was so close, just a tiny but more friction, one more hit-

Sherlock grabbed Jim's hips and flipped him over onto his back. Jim wailed in pain as his torn up back was pushed roughly into the sheets. Sherlock encircled the base of Jim's cock with his fingers, sharply cutting off Jim's orgasm for the second time. Jim wailed, thrusting into Sherlock's hand, begging turned garbled because of the gag. 

"Did I tell you that you could come?" Sherlock's eyes were dark, his voice thunderous. 

Jim sobbed, desperate for release, cock red with arousal.

Sherlock unclipped the gag and removed it from Jim's mouth, throwing it across the room onto the floor. "Answer me."

"No," Jim croaked, "You didn't give me-" he shuddered, "permission." He moaned. 

Sherlock straddled Jim's thighs, pressing his body into the mattress, hands cupping Jim's face. "You don't come unless I let you. Understood?"

Jim nodded. "Please, Sherlock. I need it." 

Sherlock leaned forward, biting harshly at the hickey he had made earlier, causing Jim to jerk under him. He placed a gentle kiss on Jim's lips before wiping his sweat-matted hair off his forehead. 

"If you're very good, I'll let you come twice."

Jim gasped. "But- how?"

Sherlock nuzzled his neck. "Trust me."

Jim chased after Sherlock, successfully catching his lips once again. "Always," he whispered, before relaxing back, looking at Sherlock expectantly. 

"Fuck," Sherlock growled. He reached into the box and drew out a condom and a bottle of lube.

"You don't need that," Jim said. "I'm clean."

Sherlock straightened, caught off guard. "You would let me inside you, no barriers?"

Jim's breath hitched. "Yes," he breathed. 

Sherlock lunged forward, licking up his chest, sucking Jim's right nipple into his mouth, before licking across to the other one and biting down hard. Jim keened, arching up into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock planted a hand on Jim's chest, forcing him down. 

"God, you're so eager, you want my cock so bad you little slut." Sherlock cocked his head, as if making sure that his words were well-received. 

Jim shuddered, eyes darkening. "Yes- yes- please Sherlock."

Sherlock licked wetly over Jim's bottom lip. Jim opened automatically, practically purring as Sherlock ran his tongue behind Jim's teeth, over Jim's tongue, plundering Jim's lax mouth. "My little slut."

Sherlock pulled away, kneeling between Jim's spread legs. He popped the cap of the lube and slathered the fingers of his right hand with it. 

Jim tensed with anticipation. 

A cold touch to his balls, his perineum, and finally to the rim of his hole had Jim's breathing going unsteady, his heart rate skyrocketing. Suddenly warmth invaded his ass. Jim used his restrained wrists to look up and saw Sherlock's head between his legs, talented tongue licking him open. 

"Sherlock," Jim moaned, head falling back as pleasure arced trough him. 

Sherlock swirled his tongue around the rim, gently licking into his hole as he relaxed more and more. Sherlock added a finger to his ministrations and Jim bucked, trying to draw Sherlock's finger inside him. 

Sherlock smirked. "So fucking eager. You want my tongue so bad, filthy slut. You've got no patience, whatsoever. I knew that, though. From the moment I saw you I knew you'd be desperate for it."

Jim moaned, every movement grinding his welt covered back into the sheets, pain lacing every moment of pleasure. 

Sherlock chuckled and slid his finger inside Jim, never ceasing licking around Jim's entrance. 

Jim's breath was stolen as Sherlock's finger teased inside him, rubbing up against his inner walls, prepping him for the inevitable. 

"Please," Jim begged, "Another."

Sherlock obliged him and added a second damp finger, scissoring slowly to open Jim fully. 

Jim ground back onto Sherlock's fingers, desperate for more. Sherlock withdrew his tongue and crooked his fingers. 

Jim arched off the bed, yelling as Sherlock rubbed his prostate mercilessly. 

"You have to- stop- please- I'm going to- Sherlock-" Jim wailed, uncaring about how loud he was being. 

Sherlock hushed him, free hand slicking himself with lube, busy hand still thrusting at that perfect angle inside Jim. 

"Ready?"

"Yes! Please-" Jim begged. 

Sherlock grabbed Jim's hips, adjusting him for the perfect angle, slung Jim's left leg over his shoulder, and slowly guided himself inside Jim. 

"Fuck," Jim moaned as Sherlock pushed inside him, unbearably slowly. His cock was the hardest it had ever been, his belly soaked in precome. Sherlock bottomed out, cradling the small of Jim's back in one massive hand, his other teasing the slit of Jim's dick. 

"Beg me."

Jim bared his throat, yanking at his cuffs. "Please- Sherlock- I need it- I need you-God I need it so badly- please- I'll be good-"

Sherlock pulled out until only the head of his dick was inside Jim, said "come", in his impossibly deep voice, and slammed back into Jim, colliding head on with his prostate. 

Jim screamed, dick jumping against his belly as he came. The pleasure was enormous, and seemed to last for days. The white faded from his vision and looked down to see his cock, amazingly, still hard, no come on his belly. 

Sherlock smirked, hips grinding in small circles, teasing Jim's prostate every third rotation or so. 

"How?" Jim asked, voice wrecked. 

"Magic," Sherlock replied, hips slowly rocking into Jim as he leaned over him and released the catch on the cuffs. Jim's hands fell to the bed beside his head, weak from the straining. "You may touch me," Sherlock whispered, remaining bent over Jim so that he was nearly bent in half. 

Jim lifted his hands to Sherlock's shoulder and neck, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's lips. "Please."

That was all Sherlock needed. 

He unleashed his power, abandoning all restraint, fucking hard and deep into Jim, cock driving against Jim's prostate on every thrust. 

The pain of his back and ass seemed to dissipate into boundless pleasure as Sherlock fucked into him. 

Sherlock had uncanny aim and an amazing ability to tell when Jim wanted it faster or slower, harder or softer. After a matter of minutes, sweat was pouring off the both of them, each rapidly climbing towards orgasm. 

"You're going to come again, aren't you?" Sherlock's words were clipped short as he thrust inside Jim. 

Jim nodded, grinding back against Sherlock as he pulled back to thrust in again and again. "Yes- I need-"

"I know," Sherlock said, licking sweat off of Jim's neck. 

Sherlock reared back until he was sitting in his knees, pulling Jim up with him until he was riding Sherlock's lap, feet planted on either side of Sherlock's hips, chests sticking together, mouth breathing hotly against each other as Sherlock lifted Jim up and slammed him down onto his cock, the new angle making access to Jim's prostate even easier. 

Jim's dick was swollen with need, bouncing between them as Sherlock fucked up into him. 

"Please," Jim sobbed, clutching Sherlock's broad shoulders, using them as leverage to grind down against him. 

Sherlock licked Jim's sternum, cupped his face, ground hard into his prostate one last time and said "Come."

Numb whiteness filled his body as electricity arced through him. Jim wailed, throwing his head back as his dick shot rope after rope of come, covering both of their chests as he finally enjoyed the pleasure he had been desperate for. Sherlock fucked Jim through his orgasm, thrusting twice more before releasing inside of Jim, a stuttered groan escaping him. 

Jim was still coming, the pleasure so long lasting and intense that he blacked out. 

*

When he came to, Jim was clean of come and sweat and was tucked under the covers, back against a larger, warm body. He nestled back before tensing. 

"I'm not a cuddler," He said, making to move away. 

A quick arm darted around his waist and reeled him back in, holding him tightly against the strong chest. A strong jaw brushed against his as Sherlock rested his chin on Jim's shoulder, placing a kiss on John's cheekbone. 

"Yes you are."


End file.
